


In tempests there was peace

by EliotRosewater



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Authority Challenge, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Memories, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Hazing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Overdosing, Past Child Abuse, Police, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliotRosewater/pseuds/EliotRosewater
Summary: Diego was not kicked out of the police academy. He quit. Voluntarily.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Eudora Patch, Diego Hargreeves & Everyone
Comments: 22
Kudos: 180





	In tempests there was peace

OK, so the thing about the police academy — and he hated that it was called that, another _academy_ — was that Diego was _good_ at it. Old man Hargreeves definitely didn't intend it, but his "training methods" had perfectly primed Diego for becoming a cop. He'd probably hate to hear that Diego had even entertained the thought of enrolling. Hargreeves had regarded police as obnoxious flies. Pesky, loud birds that could be swatted out of his way and ignored. Unnecessary when he had super-powered children that did the police's jobs better than they did them themselves.

The first day Diego looked over the 720-hour police academy curriculum, he'd nearly laughed out loud. None of it looked that hard. Why was there an academy for this stuff in the first place?

The physical fitness section was a joke. The old bastard had filled Diego's childhood with exercise since the day he could walk, and his standards were a lot higher than what _this_ academy required. A mile and a half run in twenty minutes and twenty seconds was _laughable_. Twenty-four sit-ups and he had a _full minute_ to do them? _Only_ eighteen push-ups? A vertical jump under one foot high? Why waste the hours on a course like that when Diego could smoke those standards even if he'd rolled straight off the couch.

He shouldn't have been surprised that this wasn't the case for a lot of the other academy recruits, but he was. Diego knew his upbringing was exceptional, that normal parents didn't do the things Hargeeves had done. But little things like the other recruits not knowing how to pick locks and throw knives still hit him sideways and made him realise just how fucked up his guardian was. Normal kids weren't roped to an anchor and tossed into the middle of a lake; the time it took for them to escape (which was assumed) and resurface recorded to foster competitiveness with their siblings. Imagine that!

_Five always cheated, Luther always won, and Klaus never even tried to escape, which always made Ben panic. It was down to Diego and Allison to actually compete. (Vanya stood there with her stopwatch and notepad and cried.)_

Decision-making? Critical thinking? God, Hargreeves had tortured Diego with tests and scenarios designed to assess both of those. Diego had been Kobayashi Marued so many times and in so many different ways that it didn't even faze him to make a call anymore. He knew how to make decisions, tough ones and no-brainers. Diego could administer basic first aid to himself and to others. (There'd been a lot of practice with stitching up wounds in his childhood.) He could disassemble an arsenal of weapons and put them back together in the dark. He'd been Maced, pepper sprayed, and Tasered a number of times and had Maced, pepper sprayed, and Tasered others.

_A smirk and a little satisfaction as the tears welled up in Luther's eyes._

Fortunately, not everyone was raised a child soldier. Also fortunately, Diego hadn't been completely ruined by his childhood. And so the police academy gave him something the Umbrella Academy had expressly forbidden: friends. Three in particular: Rodriguez, Beaman, and Patch. And he made them in that order.

The police academy was full of grade A assholes, too. So that was something the two academies had in common. Most of the guys reminded Diego of Luther and a few of Five. Self-important, arrogant pricks. Despite the company, Diego found a few of them good enough to make the others bearable.

Rodriguez was Diego's first friend because Rodriguez was a loudmouth know-it-all, and he recognized Diego. Most of the time people didn't put two and two together when they heard Hargreeves was his last name. That, or they politely ignored it. Maybe they just didn't care. It wasn't as if Diego tried to hide it. But he didn't call any attention to it either.

He was jogging on a treadmill at the academy gym, mind gone wandering. Spacing out was the only way to make a treadmill bearable. Diego's breathing was calm, controlled, and automatic. His form was perfect, his stride measured and balanced.

 _Five had the worst form,_ his memories reminded him, unbidden. The nuisance used to blink everywhere. Never used his damn legs, so his stamina was the absolute worst. Until the day dear old dad trained Five until he was exhausted, unable to jump. _Then_ he'd made them all run. _They'd all have to do wall-sits until Five finally finished his six miles. After that, they ran together, the worst of them setting the speed that the rest matched, and Hargreeves was livid._

A recruit stepped up to the treadmill beside Diego and set the speed for 2.4 mph. He tried to ignore the guy. There were so many open treadmills. Did this guy really have to choose the one right next to Diego?

"Never liked these things," the recruit said. He actually put the emergency stop clip on the hem of his shirt.

Diego ignored the comment and tried to let his mind wander away again.

"Rather be outside, you know? But, to be honest, I'm not really much of a runner. Always made me knees or my calves hurt."

Diego was starting to wish he'd gone jogging outside, too. He tried to focus on something else, the female recruit loading weight onto a bar in a squat rack or the guy doing preacher curls.

"Oh, but you know the worst of it, man? Fuckin' chafing. Once that shit gets star—"

"Do you want something?" Diego cut him off.

"What?"

"Do you want something?" It was still easy to talk at this speed. _They'd used to have whole conversations on their runs, entire arguments would rise and fall._ "What the fuck are you talking to me for? Can't you see I'm running?"

"Just trying to talk, bro. You know, get to know my new brothers in blue."

"I'm not your brother."

"OK. Shit. For real though, you're The Kraken, aren't you?"

The toe of Diego's shoe scraped on the belt and he stumbled before regaining his footing. The fucking Kraken.

"Hargreeves. That's you. _That_ Hargreeves."

"I'm Diego," said Diego.

"Man, you were my favourite Umbrella Academy kid. Every Christmas I was asking my ma for knives, so I could throw 'em like you. She always said no though."

"No one throws 'em like me," Diego said before he could stop himself.

"Right." The recruit held up his hands and did some sort of chopping motion while making _swing-swing_ sound effects. "Powers."

Diego said under his breath, "Yeah," and hoped that was the end of it.

"Whatever happened to you guys? You still in touch with the rest of 'em?"

"We grew up."

"You know, I always thought The Séance was sort of useless—" Diego felt an immediately, acute jolt of dislike toward his treadmill neighbour "—and Spaceboy was so boring. Super strength? Please, man, that power's played out. He didn't even have no flashy shield like Captain America or some shit."

The dislike abated somewhat.

"Think I dressed up as you for, like, three Halloweens in a row. My brother tried to be The Horror—" Diego's heart squeezed for a second "— but he just wound up looking like a kid's octopus costume."

His emotions were starting to get whiplash from this fuckin' guy.

"The Rumor was hot. Still is. We all know what she's up to. Hey, could you get me her autograph?"

"If I could get her autograph, I'd pay my rent with it."

The recruit laughed. "Damn, man. Cold." He inched the speed on his treadmill up to 5.7 mph and was finally quiet for a bit. Then: "Fuckin' chafing's starting already." He pulled at his shirt. "How do you do this?"

"I'm not that sensitive."

"Impervious nipples."

Diego snorted and shook his head. "Don't they make pasties for that?"

In the end, Diego stayed on his treadmill until his neighbour finished his one and a half miles. He told him about heel strikes and what to do with his hands while running. In return, the recruit told him his name was Chris Rodriguez. They went for a beer that night and many other nights, too.

Diego picked up Chuck Beaman in the locker room, which sounded a certain way, but wasn't. He'd been staying late to get critique on his report writing (allegedly subpar — _allegedly_ , see he's better at this police stuff already), and was running behind schedule to meet Rodriguez at the gym for a jog and some deadlifting.

Diego heard a scuffle from outside the locker room and paused. There were others outside the room, officers and recruits, that surely could hear something, too, but none of them were paying the sounds any mind. There were squeaks of pain slipping out from under the crack at the bottom of the door. They all feigned deafness. 

_Klaus used to cry a lot at night when they were little-little. The first few times it happened, Diego had gone flying across the hall and bursting through the doorway. He was sure someone was in his brother's room. Someone was in there making_ Diego's _brother make those pitiful sounds. Nope, not on his watch. He would go in there with five-year old fists raised._

_"Where are they? What's wrong?"_

_Klaus would startle and blink at him, eyes wide. There were monsters under his bed, or in the closet, standing in his boots, banging inside his desk drawer._

_What was Diego supposed to do with that? He shined his flashlight under Klaus's bed, shook everything in the closet, kicked over tiny boots, pulled opened all the drawers. Proved to Klaus the monsters were gone — they'd never been there in the first place._

_But then, on other nights, he'd find both Klaus and Ben cowering in his doorway, the pair of them petrified. It was easier to bring both of them to Diego's bed than it was to scare "monsters" out of both of their rooms. Hargreeves must have found out, because Mom would visit Klaus and Ben for longer than the others each night afterward. Diego didn't need to fight away anymore monsters after Mom visited them. It was for the best. Mom was a good fighter, too._

Diego's fingers itched for a knife. Instead, he smashed through the locker room door and charged straight into a crowd of six or so officers absolutely wailing on a recruit with nightsticks. There were jeers and taunts, spent Taser cartridges on the tile. Something about sucking at self-defence. Diego didn't stop to listen. He dropped his marked-up report papers and launched into the fray and calmly disabled the officers one at a time. They landed a few good hits, breaking Diego's lip and poking a few cheap shots to his kidneys. But he gave worse than he got, and the six of them backed off after realising they weren't going to be able to win this fight.

"I see any of you touch someone again, I'm going to cut all your fingers off and make you eat them," Diego said calmly.

The defeated men gave him dirty looks. One spat on Diego's shoe. But they left.

Once they were alone, Diego turned to the recruit. He'd straightened up by now, trying to regain some dignity while still kneeling on the wet tile of the locker room floor.

"You alright?" Diego asked.

"Yeah," was the reply. The sort of 'yeah' that means 'not really.' He slapped around the ground as if he were looking for something invisible.

Diego saw a pair of smashed glasses and retrieved them. "They look totalled."

The recruit accepted the bent frames. "Yeah, figured as much."

Diego stood and offered a hand. It was accepted.

"OK?" he said when the recruit staggered to his feet.

"Yeah." He brushed himself down. "I knew hazing was going to be a part of this, but…it's different when it's actually happening."

"Nothing like a little initiation to make you question if it's worth it."

The recruit stood up to his full height. He was bald with a soft face. The kind of guy you'd find bent over cold case files or some nerdy shit like that. The kind of guy that definitely needed those glasses. "Sorry I put you in this position, though I'm grateful you helped me out there. I'm sure you'll be a target now, too."

"Aw, let them come," Diego said with a laugh while he went to collect his scattered papers. "I look forward to it."

"Chuck Beaman." He offered a hand.

"Diego Hargreeves," he said. He accepted the hand.

Diego _was_ a target of hazing after that, but he could handle himself. He was more than capable of watching his own back _and_ Beaman's _and_ Rodriguez's, who was a target because of his association with Diego. They'd jump him in field exercises, in the locker room like Beaman, inside the academy, outside the academy, in the classroom, even after they'd been directing traffic.

Superiors had several meetings with Diego. Told him to stop fighting. These were his brothers. They couldn't have this sort of in-fighting between their ranks. They didn't want to hear it when Diego fought back; the threat of expulsion was constant, therefore, easily ignored. Diego knew how things worked, especially how law enforcement worked. They wouldn't throw him out any more than they would admit that hazing occurred, was _encouraged_ , within their own academy.

The constant threats and fights were worth it. Because Rodriguez was a great conversation, funny. (If he fell a few shades onto the Asshole Cop scale, well, it was forgivable.) And Beaman was an absolute expert with policy, report writing, and all that bureaucratic bullshit Diego didn't have patience for. In exchange for the help, Diego taught Beaman how to throw a punch. For his own good.

And then there was Eudora Patch. For the longest time, she was a friend of Beaman. Rodriguez teased Diego about his interest in her, and he wasn't wrong. When they were running on the treadmill (Rodriguez was up to five strong miles by now), Diego's eyes would drift around, following Patch's progress around the weight room. He didn't even know he was doing it; he thought he was still spacing out like he always used to.

Diego would feel his focus float away from the subjects of classroom sessions, gazing landing on Patch. He'd search her out wherever he went, weasel his way into her conversations with Beaman. Beaman hated when Diego did that. Inevitably, the conversations would turn into arguments. The two of them going at it over the subject of search warrants, ethics, and procedure when everyone was just trying to have a good night out at the karaoke bar. But more than once they'd end an argument by realising they'd both been on the same side the whole time, and they hadn't noticed because they were looking for a fight.

Nothing got him past the friend-of-a-friend barrier until a day at the gym. Diego was at the cable apparatus counting reps for Rodriguez but watching Patch load a plate on either side of the bar on a bench press in the mirror. There weren't a lot of women in the academy, let alone women that bench pressed more than a plate. He watched her put the clips on the ends, set up under the bar with shoulders back and feet planted. She unracked the weight, brought it down to her chest _for a pause_ , and then powered it right back up. Then she did it again. And again. Diego stopped counting Rodriguez's reps and focused on Patch's.

At six, fatigue was obvious in the shaking of her triceps.

At seven, there was definitely a pause halfway up. But it didn't go back down, and she managed to lock it out.

At eight, it got a few inches off her chest before it stopped. She struggled for a bit. It went back to her chest.

No one went to spot for her. Not even the assholes right next to her, who were watching. Not every day a woman her size benched like that; _a lot_ of people were watching. (Patch, being one of the few female recruits, was subject of hazing and more than her fair share of sexual harassment.)

_One evening, Diego heard pounding on the stairs. He broke out of his locked room and went to investigate. It was Vanya. She was rushing up the stairs. Diego hid in a landing and watched her run from the lowest level all the way up to the top. She pounced on something at the top of the stairs: a stopwatch. Diego heard her sigh, heard the scratch of a pencil on paper. Adding her own time to the record she'd created earlier that day of Diego and the others' stair-climber times while she stood beside dear old dad._

_Somehow Vanya always seemed so much younger than the rest of them. Diego had felt embarrassed for her. A shadow, a tag-along. He left her there at the top of the stairs undisturbed. Went back to bed._

He didn't know why he did that.

Diego sprinted over and pulled the bar up off Patch's chest and into the rack. Patch sat up and glared at him.

"You're supposed to have a spotter, you know that?" he said.

"Oh, you care about following procedure now?" she shot back.

"Hey, I was just helping. Thought I'd save you from having to do the roll of shame in front of all our brothers."

Patch scoffed. "They're not my brothers."

She was personally offended by Beaman getting jumped and never really forgave the others. It didn't deter her from the academy though. She thought she could stay and fix the toxic mentality. Thought the whole thing could be salvaged, cured. Diego didn't know if he agreed with her point of view. He disagreed with her out of reflex rather than conviction.

Diego said, "No, but they should have helped someone that obviously needed help."

Patch already had her mouth open to disagree with him, but she stopped. Looked down and picked at a callus on her hand. "You're right."

This was a deviation from their usual interaction. Inspired, he said, "Wanna get a doughnut? We're practically cops, right, so it's appropriate? I know just the place."

"Sure," she said. "Just let me finish up here and shower. Give me about an hour?"

"You got it, Eudora."

"Watch yourself," she warned.

Diego held his hands up and backed off.

When he got back to the cable apparatus, Rodriguez said, "What the hell, man, I just did, like, 50 reps!"

Admittedly, there was not a lot of emotional intelligence or respect for different levels of authority with Hargreeves. It was part of the program at the police academy. Old man didn't care that the entire contents of your home was destroyed right down to the plumbing. The Umbrella Academy had stopped the robbery, hadn't they? You're welcome.

Diego hated that he could still find some of that attitude within himself. He struggled with understanding, even with Beaman and Patch forcing him to see new sides of situations he'd never considered. He still fought, argued, and challenged authority when he thought they were wrong. But it was like talking to Hargreeves, or like the last time Diego had talked to Luther. You can't argue about interpretation of the law in the police academy, because they only see things one way: the way that is most beneficial to them. Diego hated their fickle convictions, their double standard when it came to enforcement. There were days when he wished he could use the old Umbrella Academy creed on his fellow recruits.

It came to a head on Halloween, his frustration with the academy. He rode along to respond to a noise complaint. There were two other cruisers already at the apartment building by the time Diego rolled up with his trainer. There weren't any people around in the hallways of the building, but the place looked recently trashed. A real rager had taken place by the look of things. Must have scattered really fast. Been tipped off someone called the pigs.

Diego saw Rodriguez in the hallway near an open apartment door.

"What're you doing here?" Diego said by way of introduction.

"Random wellness check," he said with a shrug. "Looks like some guy is unconscious in there. Place is a fuckin' pharmacy. Looks like they're gonna go after someone for intent to distribute—where are you going?"

Diego walked calmly but purposefully away from Rodriguez. Entered the destroyed apartment. Approached the officers standing around the side of a bed and shoved them out of the way. Bony, waxy-looking victim of an OD lay crumpled there on the floor.

"What the fuck, haven't you called an ambulance? Have you pushed Narcan?" Diego demanded of the idle officers.

"Don't waste it," one of them responded. "Junkies wanna waste their lives, let 'em. This guy ODs every other week."

Diego planted his foot and drove from the hip. He punched that officer in the mouth so hard, he was sure a few teeth came loose. Tearing the naloxone kit from pouch he knew it was stored on the officer's uniform, Diego dropped to his knees. He tore the kit open and completely ignored the face shield, gloves, and alcohol pads. He tore open the vial and administered it.

Because it was fucking _Klaus_.

"Get a fucking ambulance on the way _now_ ," he barked over his shoulder.

One of the others muttered something about junkies and health insurance before complying with the demand.

Diego sat and counted breaths and heartbeats. Administered another vial when respiration wasn't restored after three minutes. Waited another three minutes. Administered another, the last in the kit. After a minute and a half, it worked. Pulse better and respiration restored. The victim ( _Klaus!_ ) started to shiver and sweat bloomed on his forehead.

"Ambulance is here," said Rodriguez's voice from somewhere far away.

Diego sat back on his heels and felt like crying. He didn't cry. He got out of the way for the paramedics. He went back downstairs and sat in his cruiser. Waited for his trainer to come back. Watched the paramedics load their occupied gurney into the ambulance. Lights and sirens blaring as it pulled away.

A few days later, Diego quit the police academy. He still kept in touch as best he could with Rodriguez, Beaman, and Patch. They still met up for beers at night or doughnuts in the morning. Patch met with him for coffee at Griddy's after she graduated from the academy.

"The asshole guys are saying that you lost your nerve after seeing your junkie brother OD'd in that drug dealer's bedroom. Too soft for the job is what they're calling you," she told him.

Diego pulled a face at his coffee. "Don't call him that."

"Sorry," she said. Sincerity coloured her tone. Diego wasn't used to it being directed at him. "Is it true? Are you scared?"

Scared of what? Diego wondered. Of going on another call like that? Of getting there and dose after dose of Narcan not working? Scared of Klaus going the same way as Ben, torn apart from the inside out by the insatiable monsters inside him? Scared of him just disappearing one day like Five, never knowing what became of him? (If he had to choose, Diego would not hesitate to take the latter, coward that he was.)

"I'm not scared, Eudora. I'm pissed."

Her eyebrow quirked inquisitively. "Why?"

"Because all those fucking cops just stood there and waited for him to stop breathing. They had every intention of watching him die." Diego sat back in the booth. "I can't work for people like that. I don't want to."

"Diego."

He shook his head. "How many more calls for help are going to be delayed an hour because shitty cops don't want to go to a certain part of town at night? How much more Narcan withheld because they wanna play God?"

There was the saddest look on her face. She wasn't arguing back. "Diego, if you hadn't been there, your brother would have died."

"If I can help people without all the bullshit, I'm going to do it," he said.

They stayed silent for a few minutes.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"Don't know." Diego shrugged. _Don't wanna know_.

**Author's Note:**

> When watching the first episode of The Umbrella Academy on Netflix, I thought, "This show probably has tons of fanfic!" Then I looked it up and thought, "This show needs more fanfic!" Thus, my first TUA fic. 
> 
> I did about 5 minutes worth of research on what the curriculum for the police academy looks like, and I know nothing about pushing Narcan. Forgive me my ignorance.


End file.
